


Year Four

by RingosLiverpool8



Series: HP/Beatles crossover [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Beatles
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7805533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RingosLiverpool8/pseuds/RingosLiverpool8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during "The Sorcerer's Stone", Paul's life takes another big turn after he loses someone close to him. The mysterious 'John' he's been dreaming about becomes more vivid and detailed as Paul begins to use him as an escape from reality. His friends and girlfriend worry indefinitely as he becomes more of an outcast from his family and the darkness of his family history resurfaces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let Me Love You Like A Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Ok. I've had this written for a week. I'm sorry. 
> 
> Please read the end notes for a super important message!!!!
> 
> Don't own The Beatles and assoc. nor HP.

In early June, when it’s nice, the McCartney garden blossoms into a place that can be described as Eden. That garden was Mary McCartney’s pride as she spent many an hour there perfecting it. Recent events have prevented her from watching over her garden and her husband and youngest son couldn’t be bothered with it, so the responsibility fell unspoken on the oldest. Paul didn’t mind though, for one, it kept off his mother’s worsening condition by keeping him busy. It also gave him a place in which he could feel her presence imprinted all around him, especially when the wind blew and mixed the smells of assorted flowers littered the air into a scent that was distinctly Mary McCartney.

George Harrison and Paul McCartney sat in the recently manicured garden, leaning on each other and strumming mindlessly. Paul had his eyes closed, his head nearly laying on George’s shoulder. A soft melody spilled from George’s guitar and Paul’s hand slipped down from their positions indicating Paul had drifted off.

John was the main reason Paul didn’t take naps. It never failed that the auburn-haired boy paid him a visit. It started out as usual, that voice saying his name in almost a sing-song way. This time the dream gave Paul a new detail: freckles. John had freckles. But again, the light blinded John’s face as Paul tried to focus. The light disappeared, leaving a behind a black nothingness, but giving a graceful, but upbeat, sound of a harmonica, a melody Paul didn’t recognize. He wanted to listen forever to the instrument. However, the song got interrupted by John’s voice clearly saying three words: _Love Me Do_.

Paul jolted awake, sitting upright. A slight pressure on his head indicated that he’d slid down into George’s lap and George had been running his fingers through his hair.

His hand was still tangled in Paul’s hair. “I…you were…you…nightmare…”

Paul smiled softly, but with a hint of sarcasm. “Am I the only one who sees this side of you?”

“I coulda pushed your arse right offa me, McCartney.” George retorted playfully.

“There you are. Anger and all. But seriously, thanks, Geo.”

“Yeah. What was that about anyway?”

“John.”

“John who?”

“Exactly.” Paul chuckled at the confused look on George’s face.

George crossed his arms. “Not helpful, Paul.”

“Alright. Alright. I’ve been having this recurring dream and it’s always about the same person whom I’ve named John.”

“Why ‘John’.”

“It just feels right. And you said I said the name after waking up in the infirmary last year.”

A quizzical look overtook George’s face. Either Paul was cracking up or he really did have these dreams about a mysterious boy.

He decided to poke a little bit more. “So what do they mean?’

“Well, I don’t rightly know. Trelawney said it could be my soul mate but Dumbledore said it could be that or the curse trying to drive me insane,” Paul explained, “But I don’t know what to believe.”

“What exactly did Trelawney say?”

“Six and seven.”

The younger boy was disappointed. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Paul sighed and dropped the conversation there. It felt good to tell someone about ‘John’, even though George probably didn’t quite understand.

They sat in silence for a while, making any sounds they could from their guitars. So many times, Paul just wanted to spill everything to George, but as they got older, Paul wasn’t sure if he could. ‘Boys don’t talk about their feelings,’ his father had said. George was thirteen and Paul almost fourteen and he didn’t want to push himself too much onto George. But, as was a McCartney family curse, his thoughts accidentally came out in words.

“I’m not happy.”

George screeched his guitar. “What?”

Paul cringed as he realized he spoke out loud. “I’m not happy, Geo.”

Now George was worried. “Spill, McCartney.” Finally, he got to see behind those walls that Paul so carefully put up. His best friend kept everything hidden so well, but George could now see the suffering and pain piled layer by layer on top of each other. It was only a matter of time before it toppled over and today, George got a front row seat.

“I was terrified of Zander. Of leaving him. When I got out, Geo, I thought everything would reset, change, you know? I thought I’d be happy, but I’m not. Optimism seems like a childish thought to me now. It used to come so easy, I could find the light in every situation and make my way even in the darkest of nights. Do you know what I said to myself my first year at Hogwarts? I said I would always find a way to be happy, that I wouldn’t let anything get me down. I’m an idiot for believing it. If I can’t keep a promise to myself, then where does that put me?”

George thought out his words carefully. “Zander did a number on you, Paul. He used that happiness against you and now it’s an aversive feeling, but that’s only because you can’t force yourself to be happy. You can’t live on three emotions alone. Pushing away your sadness, locking it up and eating the key won’t do anything. You’ll drive yourself mental.”

“I still don’t see how this can get any better. I don’t see a way out.”

“That’s why you’ve got friends. Let us in. Let us help. We’ll take your hands and lead you out. Shit, we’ll carry you out if we need to.”

****

George ended up staying until after Paul’s birthday to keep the lad company since neither his father or brother paid much attention to him. Every time Paul and Jim were in the same room, George noticed, Jim looked scared and timid to parent Paul. This made him assume Paul was left to Mary. Another thing George noticed was that Jim didn’t act hateful towards him anymore. He wondered if Jim finally warmed up to his presence.

This year, out of respect for his mother, and a little bit because he didn’t want it, Paul didn’t have a birthday party. His aunts and uncles and friends all mailed their presents and cards to him to open.

George sat with Paul as he opened the gifts on the night of his birthday. He watched how Paul smiled when he read the cards and letters and how he made sure to take note of who sent what so he could write out ‘thank you’ letters later. One gift was left and Paul stared at it as if it would detonate and fall into pieces if he touched it. It was from his mother.

“George, you open it.”

“You can do it, Paul.” George pushed the package to him.

Paul breathed out a shaky sigh and opened the wrapping paper corner by corner. Inside lay a shiny silver ID bracelet with just ‘Paul’ engraved on the outside and on the inside:

_“Smiles awake you_

_When you rise.”_

The bracelet shook in Paul’s hand. George steadied it, taking the bracelet and latching it onto Paul’s left wrist. Glistening hazel eyes met his brown ones, giving off grateful thoughts.

“Thanks, Geo. For putting up with me.”

George laughed at his mate’s sheepish smile. “Eh. You could be worse.”

“I-”

“PAUL!” Jim McCartney’s voice rang through the house and it sounded angry and drunk.

“Too much Firewhiskey again…I’ll take care of it. Be right back.”

George had to wonder if drinking was a problem for Paul’s father. He’d had friends whose parents were alcoholics and it sounded terrible, the stories they told him. Maybe this just started, George didn’t know. He decided it best to let Paul tell him if he wanted to.

Minutes passed and George found himself needing to use the restroom. The one up by Paul’s room was occupied by the youngest McCartney, so George made his way downstairs where he heard yelling between the remaining two members of the house. Suddenly, the urge to pee didn’t seem so pertinent. He listened:

_‘IT’S NOT MY FAULT. HOW CAN YOU EVEN STAND THERE AND ACCUSE ME?’_ George had never heard Paul raise his voice like that.

‘ _YOU DON’T TALK TO ME THAT WAY. I’M YOUR FATHER.’_ Jim slurred his speech. Drunk. Paul was right.

‘ _YOU HAVE YET TO PROVE IT.’_

_Slap_. George’s eyes widened and he desperately wanted to run in there but Paul ran straight into him, dragging him quickly upstairs.

“You should probably leave tonight. He’s in a mood and it’s not safe for you.”

“Paul…”

“I’m fine. We’ll talk later. Let’s get you packed up.”

George didn’t believe him but silently packed his clothes. Paul had to sneak him out on while Jim was passed out on the couch. He offered George many quiet apologies for his father’s behavior.

George got on the bus and mulled things over in his head. He just couldn’t believe that Jim hit Paul, but that sound was definite. They didn’t get along very well and George knew that, but of all people, again, Paul didn’t deserve it. He had to wonder what would happen when Paul refused to become a Death Eater.


	2. There's A Shadow Hanging Over Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nooooo.....
> 
> Don't own the Beatles and assoc. nor HP

Paul got onto the train early, leaving without being noticed by his father or brother. It was Mike’s first year at Hogwarts. Paul certainly wasn’t important.

He waited in an empty compartment, waiving back to people as they walked by. Thisbe laid on an empty seat, stretched out comfortably beside him.

Eventually, Dot found him. He hadn’t seen her all summer but had been writing almost daily, so it came as a shock to see her face and body more mature and more defined than the year before. She looked stunning in her muggle clothes. A black skirt fell down to her mid-thigh and light blue blouse fit beautifully to her slim form.

“Hi, Paul.” She took the other empty seat next to him and accepted a very soft kiss.

Paul felt like the luckiest person. “Hi, love, how was your summer?”

“Fine, just wish I could’ve seen you, but I know. How is she?”

Paul sighed, sad. “Not good. We don’t have much longer. They’re taking her into surgery in November.”

“Oh, Paulie.” She kissed him again, lingering a little longer.

“YOU’LL NEVER…oops. Sorry to interrupt.” Ivan blushed at the couple.

“Eh, you’re fine. What’s the matter?” Paul kept ahold of Dot’s hand, but turned his attention to his friend.

“You’ll never believe who’s on the train.”

“Who?” Paul and Dot asked together.

“Harry Potter.”

“You’re joking.” Paul raised his eyebrows. Of course he’d heard the story, but never in a positive connotation. His folks blamed Harry Potter, if anything. Paul couldn’t help but feel grateful. He didn’t like You Know Who any more than a pool full of centaur dung.

“Nope.” Ivan sat down at the same time George and Richard came into the compartment.

“Did you hear-” George began.

“Harry Potter?”

“Yeah.” George frowned. “How do you know all this stuff, Ivan? I can never bring news with you around.”

“I’m just that good, Harrison.”

“Shut up.”

****

The entire school buzzed with excitement as the rumors about Harry Potter spread. It wasn’t until the sorting that the rumors were confirmed. Paul listened as the Sorting Hat sang its yearly tune.

_Oh you may not think I’m pretty,_

> _But don’t judge me on what you see_
> 
> _I’ll eat myself if you can find_
> 
> _A smarter hat than me._
> 
> _You can keep your bowlers black,_
> 
> _Your top hats sleek and tall,_
> 
> _For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_
> 
> _And I can cap them all._
> 
> _There’s nothing in your head_
> 
> _The Sorting Hat can’t see,_
> 
> _So try me on and I will tell you_
> 
> _Where you ought to be…_

Paul kept his eyes on his little brother in the crowd of first years, waiting for the hat to finish singing.

McGonagall read off the first name, Hannah Abbott, sorting the girl into Hufflepuff. Cheers and happy faces greeted her. The names went on:

Susan Bones…Hufflepuff

Terry Boot…Ravenclaw

Mandy Brocklehurst…Ravenclaw

Lavender Brown…Gryffindor

Millicent Bulstrode…Slytherin

Vincent Crabbe…Slytherin

Justin Finch-Fletchy…Hufflepuff

Seamus Finnigan…Gryffindor

Gregory Goyle…Slytherin

Hermione Granger…Gryffindor

Neville Longbottom…Gryffindor

Paul couldn’t help but think Gryffindor had gotten a lot of students so far. Paul turned his attention away and leaned in to talk to Dot when he heard a name he knew all too well shouted into the Great Hall.

_Draco Malfoy._

The Malfoys and the McCartneys didn’t get along. They both thought the other a traitor thought they’d never admit it. To the outside world and to the other Death Eater families, they got along great, were good friends. Appearances were everything, so Paul had met Draco on multiple occasions when Lucius and Narcissa came to their house for meetings. The only Malfoy child got along with Mike more that he did with Paul, soon becoming friends and pretty much leaving Paul alone.

No sooner had Draco sat down than the Sorting Hat shouted “SLYHTERIN!”. This was when Paul hated being nice and sitting on the end of the table. Draco plopped himself down next to Paul, smug, looking at his friends. They were two other names and faces Paul recognized, Crabbe and Goyle.

“Michael McCartney!”

Paul stiffened and relaxed as Slytherin rang out once again. He smiled at his brother, but Mike wouldn’t even look at him. The smile vanished from his face and he only half-listened to the sorting until the name ‘Harry Potter’ silence the room. Harry, Paul noticed, was one of the kids where the hat took forever to decide on.

“Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that – no? Well, if you’re sure – GRYFFINDOR!”

Paul really couldn’t blame him for not being wanting to be in Slytherin.

The feast began as Dumbledore announced a few words of nonsense. Dot packed his plate for him, just to make sure he ate. She made sure to avoid any meat-based foods.

Paul noticed her plate didn’t contain any meat either. “Hey, luv. Aren’t you going to eat any of the ham? You told me it was your favorite.”

“It is, but, you don’t eat meat. I don’t want you to think I’m disgusting or anything.”

“I would never…don’t change because of me.” He kissed her cheek and laid a couple pieces of the honey glazed ham on her plate. Dot shook her head in disbelief and wondered how Zander could have ever been so awful to him. Paul was so sweet and gentle and just plain kind.

They ate, pausing only to make light conversation and what Dot loved the most was that Paul actually listened and knew what she said.

“Oops…sorry.” Paul said and Dot looked over. Being left-handed, Paul had difficulties sitting between two right-handed people, meaning he’d accidentally knocked elbows with Draco.

The blond-haired boy almost spouted off a threat, but stopped. Draco had heard what the oldest McCartney could do, rumors of why the Pillingsworth boy went to Durmstrang. His resolution? He just sneered and looked away.

Paul raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes.

After dinner, Dumbledore made a few reminders and then sent them off to bed. The first years followed the prefects and the older students made their way to the common rooms. Paul watched Mike stroll pompously in chorus with Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, and he had to admit, he didn’t like the sight at all.

****

On his free period, Paul ran up to the Owlery tower to collect a letter he had been told had come for him. Excitement for Halloween dinner, filled most of his thoughts. He walked a bit too fast and would up knocking down a first year.

“Oh, Merlin’s beard. I’m so sorry.” Paul stuttered, got down on his knees and picked up the books that spilled out of the kid’s bag. When he looked up, he stared right into a bespectacled bright green eyes.

“You’re Harry Potter.” Paul stated, still holding onto the books. “Oh, here.” He shifted the books into his right hand, offering his left hand to help Harry up off the ground.

Harry took the books back, a timid, almost frightened look in his eyes. “Thanks…”

“No problem.” Paul smiled and turned, but then spun back around. “I’m Paul, by the way, and I’m not evil. We’re not all the same, you know.” With that, Paul made his way up to the tower.

Jim McCartney’s owl stood out from the rest. The bird’s feathers were jet black and he was very, very fat.

“Hey, Walter.” Paul took the letter in exchange for some food. “You oughta lay off those or you won’t be able to fly anymore.” The bird nibbled at Paul playfully. He giggled in response and went to open the crinkled letter.

Paul’s smile fell as he progressed through the letter which had been sloppily written by his father. Numbness filled his body and the brisk October air didn’t help one bit. Everything slowed to a stop and he couldn’t move. There wasn’t anything to make him, nothing to motivate him. He’d rather freeze than face the world outside, but he knew he couldn’t. He was expected in Dumbledore’s office, immediately, with Mike. The letter fluttered to the ground and Paul left the owlery.

His feet felt heavy, taking step after step towards the charms classroom where Mike McCartney would be learning how to levitate a feather. Reaching the door seemed to take a lifetime. Im that moment, Paul felt so much older than fourteen.

He shakily pushed open the wooden door, revealing the small professor instructing at the front of the classroom.

“Mr. McCartney, I say, your presence is a surprise.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I need my brother. He’ll be missing the rest of class.” There wasn’t any shred of emotion in Paul’s eyes or voice.

“Sure. Michael, you’re essay is due next week.” Professor Flitwick eyed Paul quizzically, never seeing him so devoid of emotion.

Mike gathered all his stuff up and met Paul red-faced with embarrassment. “That…Paul?” Mike noticed the absent, stone-faced expression on his brother’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Paul felt like his motor skills failed him as his head and eyes barely registered any movement or any thoughts.

“Paul…?” Mike’s voice shook this time.

Time stood still.

“She’s gone, Mikey. Mum’s gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Paul's had enough pain....I think.


	3. All The Beauty, All The Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this is good....
> 
>  
> 
> Don't own The Beatles and assoc. not HP

Mike latched onto Paul, sobbing in the middle of the corridor. It took everything in Paul not to start crying, too. For now, though, Paul was big brother, nothing else really mattered.

“Mike. Mikey, hey,” His voice cracked, “We’ve…we’ve gotta go home. Dumbledore’s waiting for us. You don’t have to let go, let’s walk.”

Mike didn’t let go. He held onto Paul’s arm, sniffling and rubbing his tears, and a little bit of snot, on the sleeve of Paul’s robe. The McCartney brothers walked in silence to Dumbledore’s office.

Paul lifted his hands weakly. “Lemon Drops.” The stairs ascended and the boys followed it up, hand-in-hand. This was the first time Mike had been to Dumbledore’s office. The Headmaster greeted them, giving his condolences. There, behind Dumbledore’s desk stood Jim McCartney.

Only then did Mike let go. He ran straight to the elder McCartney. Paul immediately missed the contact. He hesitantly approached his father and upon reaching him, Paul was pulled into a tight hug. The tears came and they wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon.

An eternity passed before Jim pulled away from his boys.

“Now,” he said, “We’re going to be strong. Mary – your mother – wouldn’t want her boys crying. We’re apparating out from Hogsmeade. Professor Dumbledore has offered to take one of you.”

“I want to go with you, da’,” Mike spoke first and quick.

“Paul?”

“That’s fine.” Paul would’ve rather stayed with his family but knew his father didn’t want to take the risk in splinching any one of them.

Mike and Jim left not long after and the tears kept falling. He didn’t see an end to them either.

A soft hand landed on his shoulder. “Paul are you ready?”

“Yessir.”

****

It hurt.

Everything went by in a blur during the funeral. Relatives gave their hollow condolences; silently grateful it wasn’t their mother or spouse. Friends of the family paid their respects, too, if only for image. Paul knew this, these people treated this as a social function. A place to flaunt their wealth and status while his mother, the only family member who understood him, lay lifeless in the ornate ivory and lilac casket. Paul went through the motions and phrases he had to say to be polite, but they held little meaning. He was cold. His mother no longer there to tell him it would be alright, to hold him. Paul was left with family who thought of him as an outcast, who wouldn’t give him a hug or a cup of tea in the middle of the night.

She was gone.

Paul was alone.

~~~~

Everything was quiet in the McCartney household, not even in the garden where Paul sat wrapped up in a layer of clothes. The cold no longer chilled him, his heart did that for him. There was no one to talk to, to ease the pain, so Paul closed his eyes.

John. He had to see John.

_Calloused fingers brushed lightly down Paul’s arm. He_ felt _it. He felt John. He could reach and touch his face, but he still. Couldn’t. See. The contact spread a comforting heat, it felt warm, right. How Paul wished that those freckled arms were wrapped tightly around him, that he could smell the auburn hair._

_Paul…Paul…Paul…Paul_

“PAUL!”

Paul was being shaken awake violently. The coldness returned, unwanted. He shivered as the unknown figure dragged him inside to the hazy glow of the fire.

“James Paul McCartney,” Paul recognized his father speaking. “What in blazes made you think to sit out in the cold and snow? You could’ve gotten sick! You could’ve…” Jim McCartney couldn’t bring himself to finish the statement.

“I-I-I I d-didn’t m-m-mean t-t-to. I’m s-sor-r-ry, da’.” Paul didn’t realize he was shivering, crying.

Jim froze up again. Paul was Mary’s. She knew him and how to comfort him. Jim didn’t know where to begin, his oldest was such a strange boy. So emotional. Mike was so easy compared to Paul.

“You’re not in trouble. Just don’t do something like that again, young man. Go get in the shower and hang up your clothes.

Paul nodded and headed upstairs without a word. He wanted to shower and get into bed. Sleep sounded like a blessing.

Plus, asleep he got to see John.

****

The following week, the boys had to return to Hogwarts. Paul was thankful to return and get away from his _house_. He couldn’t call it a home, not anymore, it didn’t feel that way anymore. Not since his mother, not since he hadn’t felt wanted.

After the near hypothermic incident, neither Mike nor his father acted like they wanted him around. Paul understood to a degree. He looked like Mary, did a lot of the things she would normally do. He made sure the house was clean, the dinner was cooked and the like. Worry still crept into his thoughts as his father would be alone for a month until Christmas. Even though, Jim would be spending the time with Auntie Jin, Paul thought one of them should be there with him.

Most likely Mike.

They returned to Hogwarts during the night, sometime after dinner. Paul and Mike went their separate ways to the dorms, praying no one would be in there.

“Paul?”

“Hey, Paul.”

“Paul, mate.”

Paul appreciated the concern from his classmates. “I’m alright, lads. Just exhausted.”

“I bet,” said a guy Paul particularly enjoyed being around, Malcolm. Especially now, since he didn’t push the subject.

“Anything happen while I was gone?” Paul laid down on his bed, petting Thisbe, who rubbed forcefully on her owner’s face and body, purring.

“Yeah. Potter defeated a troll.”

“He what? You’re putting me on, Malcolm.”

“Nope. And the Weasley kid.”

“Anything else?”

“Potter made house team. Seeker.”

“I knew that. Anything else happen at this school that doesn’t involve the words ‘Harry’ and ‘Potter’?”

Silence. Paul snorted and stood up to change into his pajamas.

“You going to bed?” Malcolm asked.

“Yeah…” Paul wanted out of reality for a while. He wanted John.

“Alright. Come on lads, we’ll make trouble in the common room. G’night, Paul.”

“Sweet dreams, McCartney.”

Paul mumbled a muffled ‘shut up’, causing an uproar of laughter fading down the stairs. The silence overtook his senses and the lonesome feeling returned. Part of him wished Malcolm and the others had stayed, part of him was thankful they left. So much had happened on the past week that it exhausted him emotionally. First his mother, then his family, and then Dot wrote him saying she felt they were drifting apart and they should probably use some space. He didn’t have the strength to write her back, but it broke him even more.

He got as comfortable as his mind would let him, his cat snuggled up against his leg giving heat which Paul found securing. He drifted off.

****

He went through the weeks and class after class with every professor (Snape excluded) giving him sympathetic looks and remarks. By the end of November, Paul just couldn’t handle it anymore.

“Paul! Paulie!”

Paul saw George barreling towards him, very nimble on his skinny legs. He fought the urge to start walking in the other direction.

“Hey, George.”

“Paul. How are you?”

“Fine.”

George knew Paul was lying. “Do you want to talk?” And there, it showed again, the chinks in Paul’s armor. Paul looked close to crying as he nodded. “Come on then.”

~~~~

Once George got Paul to talk, it came out in between sobs. He couldn’t get the crying to stop and he tried everything. It called for desperate measures. For a month, Paul ate, slept, and studied and not much more. George and Ivan tried to get him to do things with them in Hogsmeade. Nothing worked.

It certainly didn’t help that Dot sent him that letter. George wanted to scream when he found out. Dot had thought they were drifting apart because Paul hadn’t hardly spoken to anyone and had been recluse. George gave her a little bit of slack because Paul did push everyone away.

He approached Dot in Hogsmeade that weekend and felt a little bad for embarrassing her in front of a group of other girls, but he wanted his best friend back.

“Dot, I need to speak with you.”

“Okay…”

George silenced the snickers with a wink. The snickers turned into blushes and giggles. He really was quite cute.

“Did Paul send you?” She asked, hopeful. Dot felt absolutely awful for sending the letter so rashly. It took the news of Mary’s passing to reach her and by the time it did, she thought there was no use in trying to send another letter.

“No. But it is about Paul. He needs you. You picked an awful time to abandon him.”

“I didn’t abandon-”

“Yeah. Ya did. Paul can be a bit much when he gets a twisted up, but you have to stay strong. Paul wasn’t drifting from you. He’s grieving and needs us. I don’t know about you, but if I lost my mum I’d want both Paul and Richard around me.”

“I know, George. I feel so bad but I’ve tried to talk to Paul but he won’t even look at me. I’ve been so stupid, I just started seeing green.”

“I get it, now, let’s go get Paul back.”

Dot and George walked together back to the castle, not making much conversation, but something George said caught her attention.

“Why Richard, George?”

George blushed hard. “Ritchie? Well he’s…you know…my other…mate.”

Dot smiled. “Does Paul know?”

“Not yet. It only just happened. I-he doesn’t need to be bothered with it.”

“It might cheer him up,” Dot suggested. She had to admit she was terrified to see Paul. He might reject her for good, which would serve her right.

“After you talk to him, maybe I’ll tell him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It will get better next chapter. I promise.


	4. Will It Ever Be the Same Again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second half of this is way better than the first... Enjoy!!! Sorry for not posting yesterday, I completely rewrote this chapter today. 
> 
>  
> 
> Don't own The Beatles and assoc. nor HP nor Elvis Presley.

When she found Paul in the common room, he merely stared out into the Black Lake, legs pulled up to his chest. She had felt guilty seeing him like that, knowing she should have been by his side the whole time. For the first part, Paul let out the tears he’d been holding back since the funeral and Dot didn’t say a word.

Paul talked about his mother. All the things she used to do and the things they did together. Dot asked him to describe her. And the way he did sounded like a poem. Paul could use words in a way she’d never heard. Something as simple and mundane as a human hand became a delicate magical object capable of both love and anger. A soft touch or a rough attack, Paul knew them both.

When they kissed, Dot tasted the tears on his lips and felt passion. They fell into a rhythm. An experience new to her. She knew Paul plated and wrote music but now realized it flowed through his very being. Beautiful melodies and harmonies fired across Paul’s circuits, replacing the normal transmitters.

Dot knew better than to get involved with someone as emotionally substantial as Paul, especially with her newly discovered ‘gift’. Trelawney had warned her to stay away from him, that he would cause her headache after headache. But she couldn’t, she couldn’t hurt him.

Moments were ruined with The Sight and this particular moment crushed her heart. Three different scenes flashed in her head:

-Paul. Older, around twenty or 21. Kissing someone under the Eifel Tower in Paris.

-Paul around the same age, covered in soot, exhausted, fighting an unknown assailant.

-July 6. A red and white checkered shirt. John.

They were so fast and bright. She pulled away and rubbed her forehead.

Paul gripped her by the wrists. “Dot, are you alright?”

“Mmm. Yeah…”

“What aren’t you telling me?” Paul’s eyes, still red from before, expressed concern.

“I’ve, um, developed The Sight.”

“You’re a Seer? Doesn’t that usually run in families, though?”

“Yeah. I have a Great Aunt somewhere in the family line.”

“I get why you didn’t tell me, that’s a pretty big deal, but you forget I can lure people to their deaths…” Paul joked with a lopsided smile.

She laughed, glad to see a smile on his face. “You’re ridiculous…Paul, does the name ‘John’ mean anything to you?”

The smile fell from Paul’s face. Dot had just had a seen something and now she asked about John.

He got excited. “Did you – did you see what he looked like?”

“No…I-I just got a name and a date. It was too fast.” She lied, not wanting to admit to herself that it wasn’t her under the Eifel Tower. Paul was awfully excited about this ‘John’ and she knew it was ‘John’ and not her in Paris.

“A date?”

“July 6th.”

“Six and seven…” Paul muttered under his breath. “Did you get a year?”

“No. I didn’t.”

“No matter. Dot you’re amazing, you know?” He cupped her face and kissed her.

“Who is he, Paul?”

“I have absolutely no idea.”

****

“What’d you do?”

“We just talked.”

George stared hard at Dot, doing his best to figure it out. “That can’t be it? Did you whack him with a switch or something?”

Somehow Dot had gotten Paul to come out from hiding. Not all the way of course, but enough that Paul would at least smile and joke and join them on some weekends at Hogsmeade, usually when coaxed to come. There were times when none of his friends could get him bring him around and they just let him come on his own.

“I promise you, George, we only talked. For three hours. I told him something he needed to hear and that’s all.” She patted George’s hand. “I promise.”

She squeezed his hand, yet again, The Sight interrupted her day:

-George, Paul, and Richard and…a boy she didn’t recognize. The three of them had their wands out, protecting him.

George watched her, worried. “You okay?”

“Yes,” she lowered her voice, “do you know about John?”

“Yeah.” George figured they looked suspicious with their heads together, whispering. “I’m concerned Paul’s made this guy up.”

“He hasn’t.”

George furrowed his eyebrows.

“I know what he looks like and I think he’s very real.”

****

At Christmastime, Paul really didn’t want to go home. His mother’s death still lingered, despite being in a better mood. The McCartney boys took the train back to London where they met their father and their Auntie Jin. Their aunt was there to take them all back to her house for the holidays. The elder McCartney didn’t want to spend Christmas at home any more than his children.

The holiday went well and Paul managed to get along with his family without causing a scene. That is until the night of the snow storm.

Paul sat in his aunt’s living room on the window seat, watching the snow blur the landscape in thick flakes. He’d been sitting there for most of the night while the family chatted in the kitchen. His notebook lay open in front of him with the words ‘A Wonderful Christmas Time’, crossed out and ‘John’ littered about the page. Paul just wished he knew more about John.

A shiver ran through his body and he pulled up the white cotton blanket over his legs. The storm outside raged on and Auntie Jin’s house remained silent, except for the occasional howl of winter wind. Paul decided to watch for another hour and then take a sleeping draft. He let his mind wander to John again and he formed things that John might be doing at that very moment. Maybe sleeping, maybe reading a book or letting his mind wander just like him.

Several crashes from the kitchen stole his thoughts away from John and he decided to check it out.

In the kitchen, Paul’s father frantically, and rather drunkenly, searched for another bottle of Firewhiskey. Paul’s guess was that he already drank through the bottles he brought just tonight. At this point, Paul wasn’t sure of the last time his father had been sober.

“Come on, da’, let’s get you into bed.” Paul tugged his sleeve a little.

Jim yanked his arm free. “Gerroff, you un-ungratefulllll…”

“You’re not feeling well. Come on,” Paul said, pulling a little harder.

“I sssaid, gerroff!” Jim shoved his son harder than he thought, causing Paul to crack his nose on the edge of the kitchen chair.

It hurt pretty bad, but Paul blinked away the tears welling up in his eyes and ignored the warm liquid running down his chin. He’d worry about it later. Right now, his father was taking another swig of whiskey from a brand new bottle. Paul approached again.

“Dad-”

_Slap._ Paul’s cheek stung, however, he was glad he didn’t get punched.

_Thud._

Paul stared as his father collapsed on the floor, passing out from the copious amount of alcohol in his system. He lifted his father up off the ground, carrying him up to the bedroom. Jim wouldn’t remember a thing in the morning and for his sake, it was probably a good thing.

With a slight struggle, Paul got his father into bed and as Paul put the covers over him, Jim whispered, “I’m sorry, Mary.”

Paul bit his lip and he had to wonder if that was the reason why he got hit. He had to wonder if it was because he looked like her. The thought tightened his chest a little and he swallowed hard and checked on his little brother in the other room, creaking the door open just enough to let the light from the hall illuminate all the younger kids asleep. Satisfied, Paul tip-toed back into the room with his father and slipped under the covers on the other side. He swallowed the contents of the little bottle on his nightstand and it quickly took effect, pulling him into a, unfortunately, dreamless sleep.

For Paul, the sleeping draft kept him asleep during the night, missing the soft ‘I’m sorry’s’ and shaky fingers running through his hair.

****  

Paul wandered down from the fourth-year dorms and into the common room, notebook and guitar in hand. In the middle of the room, Mike sat with Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. It was the first time Paul had seen his brother in a few days.

He set down his stuff and walked over there. “I need to talk to you, Mike.”

“Later.” Came Mike’s reply.

Malfoy and his goons snickered and Paul was having none of it. He dragged Mike by the arm, digging his fingers into his bicep.

“You don’t get to treat me that way, Michael. You might get away with it at home, but not here. Here da’ isn’t going to protect you. You run your mouth to the wrong person and you might find yourself locked up and wand snapped in two. Got it?”

Mike scoffed. “I don’t have to listen to you, Paul. We may be related, but I don’t have to admit it. Everyone thinks you’re a prat.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re an embarrassment to our family,” Mike sneered, “Muggle-loving blood traitor.” He spun on his heels back to where Malfoy sat perched on the edge of a sofa. Paul was furious, upset and confused. He didn’t know what to believe. Although, the part about being an embarrassment might be true, he never expected to hear it from Mike. Malfoy has already been a bad influence on Mike. There was no use chasing after his brother, the damage had been done.

Paul picked up his things and went back up to his room. He didn’t much feel like going out anymore.

Sitting on his bed, Paul pulled out his guitar and tuned it:

_Don’t, don’t leave my embrace_

_For here in my arms is your place_

_When the night grows cold and I want to hold you_

_Baby, don’t say don’t_

Paul closed his eyes and let the song fill him up. Elvis always provided a quick getaway. Consequently, the entire boys dorm heard and listened.

_I’m your love and yours I will stay_

_This you can believe_

_I will never leave you_

_Heaven knows I won’t_

_Baby, don’t say don’t_

“Merlin’s beard, Paul. We didn’t know you could do _that._ ” Malcolm stood right at the entrance to their room.

Paul turned a slight shade of pink, unsure of whether he was being ridiculed.

“Seriously, mate, that sounded good. Can we hear something else?”

Paul smiled. “Let’s go into the common room, yeah?” The Slytherin house crowded into the common room, surrounding Paul. They urged him on and he thought, _dare I?_ And he began to sing.

_In spite of all the danger…_

****

Paul missed his mother and that would never go away, but he had friends to pull him through the rough times and he couldn’t be more indebted to them. George, Ivan, Dot, and a new face, Richard sat with him on the grounds. The winter months had passed, making room for spring once more.

He and George serenaded their friends, actually drawing a little bit of a crowd. Paul got a taste of showmanship back in February and he had to admit, he liked it. A lot.

They sounded good together, too, and Richard added a back-beat, drumming a pair of twigs on a couple of textbooks. Soon enough, the five of them had a crowd.

“Alright, alright. Enough for today, my dear witches and wizards. Paulie and the Starrisons need a break.” Ivan announced after they played a couple songs, “Piss off, you lot!” The crowd dissipated, leaving them on their own once more.

“Paulie and the Starrisons?” Paul questioned.

“Yeah. You’re Paulie and you got Starkey there and Harrison. Starrisons.”

George nudged Richard and got a little flustered, he still hadn’t told Paul about their relationship. It just hadn’t come up…until now.

“So, Paul, um, there’s something I haven’t told you.”

Paul had been nuzzling Dot, kissing her jaw and neck, actions, George observed, that weren’t being returned. “What?”

“Some recent developments have…occurred…and I didn’t think it impertinent that you knew right away and so I kept it to myself for reasons which-”

“Out with it, George.”

“-for reasons of your mental health. The point being, I have found someone who can function…adequately as my other half in a, um, chimerical, er, amorous way.” George finished, feeling triumphant.

Paul’s mouth hung open in confusion. “In other words…?”

“In other words,” Dot finished, “George has a boyfriend.”

“That was…nice, George. I think.” Richard said.

“You and…together…h-when? No. WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?” Paul screamed loud enough for all of England to hear.

“Wanna yell a little louder, Paul?”

“I’m mad at you.”

“You had other stuff going on!” George tried to defend himself.

“You’re my best mate! I want to know about major changes in your life, Geo. Especially when they make you happy.” Paul glanced kindly at Richard.

“Thanks, Paul. I know your approval means a lot to George.” Richard articulated, unlike his now embarrassed boyfriend. “And you can call me Ritchie.”

“It’s easy when we like you.” Paul thought for a moment, looking Richard up and down. “How about ‘Ringo’?”

“Ringo?” George asked.

“Yeah.” Paul nodded towards Richard. “A nickname. Ringo, ‘cos of the rings on his fingers.”

“I like it. Ringo. Ringoooo…” Richard drew out the last syllable, fixing his blue eyes on George. Paul’s heart ached seeing so incredibly happy. He wished someone looked at him like that. He loved Dot, but for a month or so, things had grown stale and he was putting in most of the effort. If Paul didn’t know better, he would assume Dot was hiding something from him. For now, though, he’d stay until she didn’t want him anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter and then guess who?!?!?!?! 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading!!! I seriously appreciate all of you who comment and leave kudos and just simply read. It keeps me going on this. You guys don't let me be lazy.


	5. What Better Time To Find A Brand New Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for reading and commenting and kudos-ing. It means so much to me that the reception on this has been so positive and kind. I sincerely adore you all. 
> 
> Don't own The Beatles and assoc. nor HP.

The end of the year came faster than any of them thought. And quite a year it had been, too. The school harbored a dangerous stone, one Paul understood had the ability to prolong life. It explained why his father acted so strange. You-Know-Who tried to get it and come back into corporeal form. But, oddly enough, Harry Potter and his two friends stopped him. Paul felt relieved both for himself and for his father. 

At dinner, the Slytherin house knew they were up in house points. That is, until Dumbledore started awarding last minute points. To Gryffindor. As each of the points were awarded, Gryffindor caught up to Slytherin and Ivan made faces to which Paul couldn’t keep from laughing. 

“Paul, why are you laughing?” His girlfriend asked, annoyed.

“Ivan’s making faces at me. What’s the big deal?”

“We just lost the House Cup.”

“So? It’s just a silly competition. I don’t get why you’re upset with me.”

“Not having this discussion right now, Paul.”

“Fine.” Paul gave up. Dot had been acting cold towards him for a few weeks now and he couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong. The couple ate in silence, with Paul intermittently adding to a conversation with his other friends. He glanced at the Hufflepuff table to see George and Ringo nearly sitting in each other’s laps. He missed that with Dot.

He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek and she shoved him away with her shoulder.

“What have I done?” Paul said with harsher than he thought.

“Not now, Paul.” She forced back, causing a few heads to turn in their direction. 

“I don’t want to fight with you, I just want to know-”

“What you’ve done. I get it. I’m not talking about it in front of the entire school.”

“I see, well, maybe we won’t talk about it at all.”

By now most of the Slytherin table were listening. Dumbledore announced they could go off to bed, but most of the people stayed behind.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She snapped.

“It means, I’m not sure I want to be in this relationship anymore. It’s been pretty one-sided. I’m doing most of the work to keep us together and frankly I feel you’re doing your best to sabotage it. If I’m wrong, you know where to find me tomorrow morning.” Paul walked off, leaving Dot to question herself what happened.

Those listening to the exchange couldn’t believe they witnessed the breakup between Paul McCartney and Dot Rhone, let alone that it was Paul who broke it off. A couple of them owed money to the Weasley twins. 

**** 

George, Ringo, and Paul boarded the train together and found an empty compartment. Paul was tense and aggravated, so naturally George poked him.

“I heard what happened with Dot, Paulie. I really didn’t expect-”

“Save it, George.”

“Come on, Paul, he’s only trying to help.” Ringo reasoned.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask for it.” Paul bit back. 

George got angry for Paul’s rude behavior towards Richard. “You’re being an arse, Paul, and I’m sick of it. You can’t treat us like shit whenever someone pisses in your cornflakes.”

“You’re right.”

“I don’t want any – wait, what?”

“I said you’re right. I’ve been no better than Zander. I’ve abused your friendship and I’m sorry.” Paul hated the fact that his brother may be right, everyone probably does think he’s a prat.

George softened a bit. “You’re not Zander, Paulie. I never said that. I just meant that your sulking is getting out of hand.” 

“Okay. I’ll try not to take out my problems on you anymore, lads. If I do, you have permission to throw me off the tallest tower at Hogwarts.”

Ringo snorted. “Now, that’s a bit high, luv. Maybe the second tallest?”

“Oh, thanks, Ringo.” Paul chuckled and they just started laughing for no reason at all except that they needed it. To an onlooker, the three of them looked pretty crazy. Especially when Dot walked in.

“Paul?” When she announced herself, the boys quieted quickly. “Can I talk to you alone?”

“S-sure.” Paul stood up and followed her to a secluded part of the train.

“I don’t want things to end badly between us, Paul.” Dot said.

“Neither do I, but I still want to know why it ended. I don’t know what I did to hurt you because I obviously have.” Paul grabbed her hand, still looking in her eyes.

“Because of John. Whoever he is. You’ll love him, you really will. I do know what he looks like and he’s definitely your type.” Dot laughed and stroked Paul’s cheek. “We’re still friends. I don’t want our friendship to end.”

Paul desperately wanted to push for more about John, but he didn’t. He would find John when the time came.

“Of course we are. You were my first friend here. And I know you’ll find someone so much better than me. I’m a mess.”

“But a very cute one. Let’s go back so George doesn’t think I’ve tossed you out the train.”

“Lead the way…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I see you shiver with antici....................................

**Author's Note:**

> !!!!!!!! IMPORTANT UPDATE ON HE'S LEAVING HOME !!!!!!!!!!  
>  Ok, so I've lost all my work on the next chapter of He's Leaving Home. I dropped the damn notebook in a puddle of water leaving work. Anyway, please be patient with me while I re-write the chapter. I start back at Uni on the 6th, so updates will drop to probably once a month if that....


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